Cliff: Carla's got herself a real Poindexter there, huh? Yeah. It's sad to say that kids not accepted by their peers really never learn how to get along with people in the big grown-up world.
Norm: Why is that, Cliff? 'Cause they keep boring everyone and driving them crazy with long speeches filled with meaningless statistics?
Cliff: Yep, yeah. 63% of them live lives of quiet desperation.
Norm: And how about those who sit next to them?

Lilith: So, Carla, tell, tell. Have you bedded any other Rhodes scholars?
Carla: Uh... no. But one egghead, long-distance, phone-in father is enough for this baby factory.
Frasier: In spite of the fact that Dr. Ludlow's work takes him out of the country, I'm sure he's a marvelous parent.
Carla: No, a good parent is someone who's there. Who's there to help them out with their homework. There when they wake up in the middle of the night crying their eyes out. He's there with the bottle of Bactine when they give themselves a bad tattoo. Well, I've been there. I raised eight kids on a waitress's salary, and I want you to know they're all good kids, and not one of them has had a conviction that stood up on appeal.

Norm: Carla, look, I know you love your kids and everything... I mean, like your kids. I mean, I know you have kids... But I have never seen you this concerned before.
Carla: Well, Lud's special.
Norm: Yeah?
Carla: Yeah. I mean, whenever I come home at night, he always brings me a pan of hot water for my feet. He actually asks me how my day went. I don't know if I ever told anybody this before... I love him.
Norm: You don't have to be shy about saying that you love your kids.
Carla: Oh, why don't you just take out an ad in the Yellow Pages?

Lilith: We were wondering if we could treat Lud to dinner this evening.
Carla: Come on, guys. You've had him out every night this week. Besides, I had a special family evening planned. I was gonna cook a big bowl of pasta, and we're all gonna sit around and watch America's Most Wanted, and see if we could rat on our neighbors.

Frasier: Carla, that's exactly what he wants you to do. One must not play the game by his rules. Now, I've taught a seminar or two on developmental behavior, and the first rule in these acting-out situations is to simply ignore the offending child. Just pretend that he doesn't exist. Eventually, he'll get bored and come out. So what a lovely meal. Mmm! Do you know, I heard that the chef here was a protege of...
Lilith: Do you smell something burning?
Frasier: Yes. That's my shoe. I heard that he was a protege of...
Lilith: Your shoe is on fire?
Frasier: Yes.
Lilith: Isn't that painful?
Frasier: Excruciating. But I'm not going to give the child the pleasure of hearing me cry out. So, you see, it seems he was educated in a small village on the Rhine. He... Oh, Lud. One hotfoot might be considered a puckish prank. But, if you light that other match, it is the end of our tutelage. Is that perfectly clear? That's it! That's it! I've had it! That severs the relationship!
Lilith: Frasier, everyone thinks you're arguing with your clams.

Frasier: Now would it please everyone if I ordered for the whole table?
Carla: It would be delightful.
Lilith: Fine.
Frasier: Thank you. Now, I know that Lilith's delicate constitution is not amenable to shallots. Is there anything else I should be mindful of?
Carla: How considerate of you to ask, Frasier. Actually, I have a delicate constitution, as well. No extra-heavy barbecue sauce. I'll be repeating like a Howitzer.
Lilith: Delightful.

Frasier: You know, Lilith, I think we've all learned something here tonight. I'm going to try to tell you what it is before you coat my blistering feet with butter and drop me off at the emergency room. You see this incident has made something very clear to me. I.. I believe my initial instincts were correct. We shouldn't have children. I don't think I'd make a good father. I don't want to be a father. I'll never be a father. End of discussion.
Lilith: Frasier, I'm pregnant.
Frasier: I'm gonna be a daddy? I'm gonna be a daddy! Oh, Lilith, we must come here more often.

Frasier: "Lud", you know, that's Carla's son by Bennett Ludlow. He's a cute little tyke.
Lilith: Carla bore a son to Bennett Ludlow, the eminent psychiatrist, your mentor? Oh, this is prime dish. I can't wait to tell the girls in the sleep disorder lab.

Lilith: Frasier, I just had a delicious idea. Why don't we buy an extra ticket and take young Lud to the opera with us?
Lilith: Oh, wow, great! But I have to ask my mom. Mommy, Dr. Crane and his wife invited me to go to the opera with them.
Carla: Well, you don't have to be polite. Just tell them to bug off.
Ludlow: But, Mom, I want to go. Please?
Lilith: Carla, may I have a word with you?
Carla: Yeah. Sammy, entertain the kid.
Lilith: Carla, you'd be doing us all a favor. Allowing Frasier and me to spend some time with your son might help us to formulate a decision that's been under much discussion as of late. You see, the two of us are considering whether or not we wish to reproduce.
Carla: You're thinking of having a baby, huh? So, tell me, how long does it take one of your pods to hatch, anyway? Listen, you want to baby-sit Lud, be my guest.

Sam: So, are you still cramming all that high-Q stuff in your head?
Carla: You know, Sammy, I don't have any choice. I mean, ever since Dr. Cyclops and Morticia started introducing Lud to all this culture crap, it's like I don't have anything to talk to him about. So I'm listening to all this music, and I'm plowing through all these books here. Look at this.
Sam: Good heavens, man. History of Modern Art. Comprehensive Guide to the World Of Opera. Hollywood Wives.
Carla: Yeah, I'm getting into literature, too.
Sam: I've read this.
Carla: Oh, man, who am I trying to kid? I'm just stupid.
Sam: Hey, you are not stupid.
Carla: Oh, how would you know? You're stupid.
Sam: If you were really stupid, you wouldn't know that about me.
Carla: Good point.